


Bed Fellows

by greenieboy



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/F, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26506609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenieboy/pseuds/greenieboy
Summary: «That’s what they’ve been doing for the past few weeks. Sharing a bed. Beverly can’t remember how it started.»
Relationships: Beverly Crusher/Deanna Troi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Bed Fellows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [porridgewhore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/porridgewhore/gifts).



> hi hi hi !! no beta buuuuuut i reread this a lot soooo hahaha enjoy

Beverly is somewhere between conscious and unconscious when she hears her doors open. She lifts her head briefly, brow furrowed slightly as she squints into the darkness. The soft footfalls on the floor that follow behind the closing of the door allow Beverly to relax; it's only Deanna. Instinctively, Beverly shuffles herself to one side of the bed, making space for Deanna to join her. She knows by now Deanna likes to sleep on the right, and Beverly has always had a preference for the left (when she had someone to share a bed with).

That’s what they’ve been doing for the past few weeks. Sharing a bed. Beverly can’t remember how it started. She remembers Deanna falling asleep in her bed after a tipsy evening spent in Ten Forward (they woke up spooned together with Deanna’s back to Beverly’s front). She also remembers Deanna coming to her quarters the next night, claiming a nightmare was preventing her from sleeping, and asking if she could stay the night - and really, who was Beverly to turn down her best friend. But then… they kept doing it. There stopped being a reason probably after the first week. Now Deanna lets herself in (Beverly set the computer to always grant her access) around 22:00 and crawls into Beverly’s bed without a word; sometimes Beverly is awake, sometimes not.

Typically, they’re cuddling when they wake up. They don’t start that way, but it always happens regardless. They disentangle themselves after a moment or two, get dressed (a few of Deanna’s uniforms have made a home for themselves in Beverly’s closet), and have breakfast together. They don’t address anything, or confront anything; they share a meal - toast or banana crepes or bagels - and always have a cup of tea before shifts. Deanna likes rose tea. Beverly likes jasmine. They’ve swapped before, giggling to one another before passing the respective teas to their drinkers. After that, Beverly walks Deanna to her office. Deanna says goodbye with a squeeze of Beverly’s hand and a kiss on her cheek. Beverly says goodbye breathily.

The sheets shift, and the mattress dips. Deanna exhales, settling herself on her side of the bed. They’re quiet as Deanna arranges herself, and Beverly wants to look at her. Wants to reach out for her. They wake up cocooned together in Beverly’s blankets every morning anyway, but there’s something so terrifying and intimate about initiating it consciously. But god, does Beverly want to. She slides her hands under her thighs, trying to curb the need to glide her fingers across Deanna’s skin and hold her close. She thinks instead, about how they might wake up together. Maybe Deanna will have curled into Beverly’s side. Or Beverly will spoon up behind her. Or they’ll wake up forehead to forehead, nose to nose, as they’ve done many times before. Beverly’s hands begin to ache.

She rolls onto her side, facing Deanna, but her eyes are closed. If she inches forward somewhat, that’s her business. Deanna’s more than likely asleep by now. She’s a deep sleeper, and she always seems to knock right out in Beverly’s bed. Beverly wonders what she looks like when she sleeps; Deanna is usually awake before her, eyes sleepily tracing the lines, curves, and crosses of Beverly’s room, sometimes of Beverly herself. Her eyes have a way of pricking through Beverly’s outer layer, right to the tender, sensitive woman tucked away by professionalism and abstract repression. It was frustrating. Then it was comforting. Now, it’s endearing. It's still comforting, but Beverly finds Deanna’s gentle care for the soft spots of her person to be touching (and maybe necessary). Deanna has a sweetness to her, one that revives Beverly’s sweet tooth from its adolescent grave.

“Beverly?” She hears her bed partner murmur into the open air. Beverly’s lips part, ready to reply, but she hesitates. Idles. Has she kept Deanna awake with her thinking? Slowly, she opens her eyes to see Deanna, bathed in the muted glow emanating from the porthole near  _ her side _ of the bed with a kind of gleam in her eyes that Beverly doesn’t think she’s ever seen before in her friend.  _ Friend… _

“Yes?” She replies softly, almost inaudibly.

Deanna shifts toward her, fingertips making contact with Beverly’s cheek. “Come here,” she says, voice worn out and low. Her accent is thicker when she’s tired. It makes Beverly want to kiss her. The woman draws Beverly in her with oh-so soft hands, until Beverly’s face is in her neck, breathing in the smell of her body lotion and hair oils. It makes her relax into her pre-existing exhaustion, arms wrapping around Deanna’s waist. Suddenly, she’s being propelled into sleep by Deanna’s embrace, and she’s powerless to do anything about it.

Tomorrow, they’ll wake up. They’ll dress - Beverly in her bedroom and Deanna in the bathroom. They’ll have breakfast and tea and talk about their schedules, if they can meet for lunch, or if they’d rather wait until dinner. Their hands will clasp when they leave Beverly’s quarters, and they’ll walk through the corridor packed with other morning commuters. Outside Deanna’s office, Beverly will receive a kiss on her cheek, and Deanna will more than likely receive a projected wave of affection, adoration, and love. Then, they will part, and do it all over again. It’s an endless dance that Beverly can’t seem to change; she loves how they move against one another, but she longs for new choreography. She’s tired of waltzing. She wants to tango.

“Goodnight, Deanna,” Beverly sighs into Deanna’s collar, and she can feel Deanna smile.

“Goodnight, Beverly,” the empath replies.

Sleep is pulling at her neck, forcing her eyes closed finally. She’s so tired, and Deanna is  _ so _ warm. She’ll be out in a matter of seconds. There’s a fraction of her that wants to draft up some grand scheme, some master plan to cross the threshold and dance anew. It won’t come as a surprise to Deanna, will it? Hell, they share Beverly’s bed; she has to know. Does she want Beverly to act? Is she waiting for it? Beverly wants to wonder, but her conscious brain function is depleting as she lays in Deanna’s arms. And anyway, she should start simple.

Drifting off into sleep, she thinks she’ll start with breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a kudos or comment if u enjoyed and find me on tumblr @ stonktrek


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